


Falling Is Flying

by AfanofManyStuffs



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 18+, 18+ ONLY, Blood, F/M, Feels, Fluff, I don't write happy things, NSFW, Romance, Smut, Tags to be added, Violence, as in quantum cas type, far reaching ideas, unhealthy mental states
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 14:33:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10117367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AfanofManyStuffs/pseuds/AfanofManyStuffs
Summary: You poured another glass of wine and sipped at it as you indulged in your dark fantasies of where he would touch; how he could resuscitate you when your heart stopped and skipped and beat again in overwhelming pleasure-God, were you going to hell? He’s an angel, for crying out loud. Surely thinking such lustful thoughts about such a pure being guaranteed a one way trip to hell.The angel of the lord will never be interested, you know that… but that won’t stop your mind from imagining, your hands from wandering, or feelings from, well, feeling.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Supernatural fic. I was burying myself in those yummy reader x character fics while watching Season 3, and this idea came to me. I have no idea how long my muse will stay, or how long the time between updates will be, but I do have a plot written out. Castiel is a really inspiring character, and I relate to him more than I should if I’m honest. At any rate, he’s stolen my heart to the point where I’m writing a romance for the first time, if that’s any indication.
> 
> Cross-posted to Tumblr under afanofmanystuffs.tumblr.com and afanofmanyarts.tumblr.com
> 
> Special thanks to my betas, enoliel, devilscharismatic, and mate-im-captain-jack-sparrow (Tumblr usernames), without the help of this would have been a lot rougher. Thank you for being patient with me and not stopping, even if I went MIA for a while.

**(^⁽ ͡°⁾_⁽ ͡°⁾^)**

It had started out as sly glances during hunts; occasionally bumping into the Winchesters with their (literal) guardian angel in tow. You had always been sensitive to supernatural auras; just meeting Castiel had brought you to your knees. The reaction had nearly gotten you killed when it happened, and you ended up being in debt to the angel immediately for swinging his blade over your head to decapitate the last vampire in the nest you had wiped out.

At the time, the action had barely registered as you shuddered on your knees; gazing up at Castiel with awe until he had folded his grace within him, and the sensation of electricity shooting through your body stopped. But that was then. Now…

How had it come to this? You shake your head, hair swinging with the motion. You dreamed he was here at times. The longing… some days, you feared it would turn into wordless prayers. There was a certain feeling swirling in you whenever your thoughts turned to him. It was something unidentifiable, but came rushing back whenever your were half-drunk at the bar and saw a mildly attractive man with messy black hair and blue eyes.

Like tonight. You’re in a restaurant, dressed up (you never knew when will be your last night on earth). Half a bottle of semi-expensive wine and a long stemmed glass is before you on the table for two, next to a partially eaten slice of cake. You swirl the wine beneath your nose, inhaling the sharp, sweet scent while your mind rambles on in a haze. Light jazz music plays softly in the background, accompanying the light chatter of the patrons and traffic noises. It’s slow and saucy… Good pole-dancing song. Or maybe waltzing…

A gentleman passes by your table, causing a warped reflection in the curved glass in your hand. You take a sip of the liquid, relishing the slight sting as it goes down. It is reminiscent of the last time you had felt an angel nearby… they are very distinct from demons. And also very individual in how they make the electric current curve in your body. One of the angels had such a strong aura that he floored you (literally) in three seconds flat, and then came up and actually touched you… You shuddered just remembering the experience, goosebumps rising at the memory of electricity making you shiver and convulse on the floor; shamelessly uncontrollable in front of the group of men.

Your cheeks reddened, mind going to the gutter, thinking of how well the sensations could be put to use in the bedroom… Shivering, you try to save the thoughts for later that night. But the mind is traitorous, and, naturally, puts a face and figure to the shadowy hands and feathers brushing over your form in your imagination… dark hair, black as midnight; feathers so dark as to absorb the light around them; large, roughened hands; and a tall figure that stands over you by a few inches, producing that inexplicable feeling… you pour another glass of wine and sip at it as you indulge in your dark, filthy fantasies of where he would touch; how he could resuscitate you when your heart stopped and skipped and beat again in overwhelming pleasure-

God, were you going to hell? He’s an _angel_ , for crying out loud. Surely thinking such lustful thoughts about such a pure being guaranteed a one way trip to hell. Of course, it’s actions that count more than the actual thoughts, and these are just that… thoughts. And would likely never become anything more- ever. You take a long pull of the wine, draining the glass as track light spotlights dance in your eyes. That was probably enough wine for now, but you had payed for the entire bottle, dammit. You empty the last quarter of it into your glass and take a gulp in rebellion, patting your mouth daintily with a napkin afterwards. Hazy eyes catch sight of the last of the cake. You pick up the fork, declaring to yourself resolutely that you would get your money’s worth out of this posh restaurant if it was the last thing you did.

Fifteen minutes later, you leave a cash tip on the table (tucked under the dry bottle like an empty thank you) next to the crumb spotted dessert plate and lipstick smeared wine goblet. Walking out the door, you sway slightly; unsteady on your feet. The hotel is a block away, and your tight dress and black pumps aren’t helping you keep your balance. The world isn’t spinning, but rather rocks like a boat. You grip the thin chain of your purse tightly as if it were a lifeline. A few minutes later, you somehow manage to teeter into the lobby and press the button for the elevator without falling on your face.

You know you’re garnering glances from the clientele around the hotel. You don’t mind; flicking your hair over your shoulder and biting your lip, eyes darkening. Now, if your angel had been here, you would look around and then glance up to him. Maybe he would put a hand on your shoulder, making you shudder, and steer you into the empty elevator that had just dinged. Stepping in and pressing the button for the eighth floor, you allow your imagination to continue down that dangerous road…

He would press you up against the mirrored wall and invade your personal space, drawing in long lungfuls of air against your collarbone; perhaps tasting it a time or two. His deep voice would tease you with a line that sounded like it belonged in the past, like ‘ _you smell like the sweetest flowers to me,_ ’ or some other phrase like that; voice edged slightly with controlled predatorism. He would press a kiss next to your ear, making you shudder at the small, intimate contact, and then turn away abruptly. He’d pause a moment for your attention, and make you stumble after him past the metal doors. You walk out of the small space, thumbing through your purse for your room key card and inserting it smoothly. Waiting a beat for the green light before entering, you greet the cool, dark room with a sigh.

He would have had the door already open, probably hiding behind it while it exposed the room beyond. You would walk in and close it firmly, turning so you could flip the deadbolt with a click. You would then hear the distinctive rustle of wings and feel a rush of sparks as he pressed you up against the door from behind, kissing and licking your neck while wrapping his arms around you to grab your hands. You would let out a moan of desire as he held you firmly, backing you away from the door slowly. Easing you out of the small hallway before spinning you around just to disorient you, he would tug on the zipper of your dress and let it fall, revealing sheer, lacy lingerie and heels as you swayed. Your eyes grow far away, lost in the fantasy, as you step out of your dress, exposing your skin to the chilled air. Discarding your shoes, you lie down on the bed and tuck yourself in as you continue the fantasy in the darkness of the room.

Castiel would eye you up and down, stopping you with a motion as you tried to step out of your stilettos with a muttered ‘leave them on’. He would then shrug out of that tan trench coat and toe off his shoes and socks, letting his wings manifest while you ran a hand through your hair provocatively. Maybe you’d do a little dance then- swinging your body around slowly while you creeped closer to his frame; tugging his jacket down in a smooth movement as part of the dance and continuing until you were pressed up against him. You’d move up and down sensually until he wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you together to kiss you deeply, your movements ceasing. Your arms would wrap around his neck, brushing feathers while drawing him closer as your tongue ran across his, each breath and every heaving gasp tasted through the other’s mouth. The tips of his wings might brush against your calves then, urging them to draw up, and you would obey; wrapping your legs around his waist; frustrated at the clothing between you. You yearned for the skin-on-skin contact that would light you up brighter than an arc of electricity.

He would stride to the bed and lay down over you; wings splaying out impressively to cover you both as he broke away to trail kisses down your chest while you gasped for air. It was like the pair of you were at ten thousand feet and oxygen was thin, but still burned on the way down while you twitched and gasped at the trail of lightning his lips left. You’d shake uncontrollably, hands grasping at his shirt and tugging, partly in an effort to stay grounded, partly in a futile attempt to get it off. Then, you suddenly would have arched as he clamped a hardened nub between his teeth that made you gasp in incoherency. Your legs would tighten around his waist as you nearly came from the electrifying sensation. He’d let go, suddenly shielding his grace, and you would collapse; fully feeling how heated you were now that the lack of sensation had been defined so sharply.

Opening your eyes, you might see his face hovering above you, a gleam in his electric blue eyes. He would probably say something either dirty or cute then, like ‘ _Was I hurting you?’_ or ‘ _I wonder how many times you can come for me.’_

_‘Let’s find out,’_ you would reply heavily. ‘ _Do it again.’_ His face would glaze over with lust as he leaned back, untangling your legs from his waist with the action as he ran his hands down your body while you undid his tie and shoved his shirt to the floor. He would then slide the sheer nude panties down so he could dip a just finger into your core, letting his grace out just a moment in order to make you gasp; fingers curling into his skin again.

_‘Cas…’_ you would moan deeply, pressing on his finger in lust. _‘Yes?’_ he would say innocently, as if he didn’t know the effect it had on you (he would know well as you dripped down his finger, clamping onto it in want). Your hands would slide down his wonderfully defined midsection, undoing his belt clumsily and tugging on his pants urgently. ‘ _Let it out,’_ you would beg, finally succeeding in freeing him of the fabric’s bounds. He would get this look at that moment- you knew it was desire by the way his cock twitched under your palm, right before he’d let all restrictions on his grace go.

You’d throw back your head and moaned at the overwhelming sensations. He would add another finger at the same time, scissoring and curving them in exactly the perfect manner to have the softest whimpers and almost-moans emerge from your throat. You writhed beneath him as he leaned back over you, one hand planted next to your head dominatingly; the other doing delightful and sinful (could angels sin?) things below you. His very presence would suffocate you in the best way; any touch of skin from him magnified a hundred- no, a thousand times from the shocks he invoked.

The only way you’d have to anchor yourself was to think past the sensations and focus on the skin below your touch- the smooth, unblemished shoulder you were gripping with one hand, and his thick length in the other. You stroked it up and down; thumbing the tip and smearing a bead of precum when it appeared. Gaining a sense of satisfaction at seeing the expression of pleasure cross his normally stoic face, you’d do it again, just to see it once more. He groaned that time. To match it, he manifested a finger of his grace so that it could be physically felt, nudging it deep, so deep, deeper than his fingers inside of you, sending a wave of electricity throughout your body from your very core. You would almost come, shuddering, holding off in some unknown way, nails buried in the skin of his shoulder, hand tight around his shaft. His eyes, normally so clear, looked like he was thinking of the laws of physics on Saturn to distract himself.

You’d make a small sound, sliding your hand to bury it in his hair, pushing your heads closer so you could kiss him. He would taste like dark chocolate and whisky, you think, as you shift on the bed, rearranging pillows to mimic a body next to you and pressing your thighs together in warm desire. Your hand would guide him to slip along your wet folds, and he would retract both his grace and hand from inside of you. His voice is hesitant when he parts from your lips and asks lowly, _‘do you give your consent?’._ You’d breathe yes in wet anticipation, trailing the hand not in his hair up his chest and flicking your nail over the bud of his nipple. His next breath was sharp, and he slowly guided the tip of his cock down, until it sat at your entrance. You’d shift and squirm; the sensation teasing and making you more desperate. You shifted your hips up, trying to join your bodies, but he wouldn’t let you. A slight, barely there smirk was present on his face, and you pouted up at it, letting his strong hands on your hips still your motions.

It is only then he sunk in, slowly filling you to the hilt, inch by inch. Your face would be awash in ecstasy, mouth gaping, breath gasping and desperate for air that only makes you light headed. You gripped onto him through the sensations, and he paused, letting you adjust to him. You shifted your legs until they were wrapped around his waist; pressing him closer still. You craved the contact; wanting more, more, _more_ of the sensation of _him._ You would not care that you were shuddering as electricity shot through you- it felt like ten thousand volts, but you would die happy, you thought as he started to move, rapidly building a pace. His hand would come up to cup your face, and you would kiss passionately as you rocked together― –

Your eyes fly open; breathing fast. The only light came in the form of flickering neon through the thin curtains. The fantasy was broken, now. You close your eyes, reaching for the sensation of arms around you, but unable to find it again. When was the last time someone else’s arms had been around you? It is impossible to remember. You make a sound that was halfway between a sob and a sigh, turning on your stomach and clinging to your pillow tight. There is no one but yourself- there never had been anyone but yourself. Love unrequited, there would never be anyone but yourself. If the devil presented himself as everything you ever wanted _(Cas),_ you would gladly go with him to the flames, so long as you could so much as be in his presence.

In that fashion, you toss a leg over the lump of fabric and polyester stuffing, falling into an uneasy sleep haunted by blue eyes, dark wings, and dark swirls of blood.

**(^⁽ ͡°⁾_⁽ ͡°⁾^)**


End file.
